To Protect Life
by mrthou
Summary: *ABANDONED* What type of man would Kenshin have been if he had never given up killing completely? This is one possible answer.


**To protect life**  
A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction

by Alex Lindeke (mrthou)

Rurouni Kenshin is the creation of Nobuhiro Watsuki. This work is based on the manga fan-translations that can be found at http://kenshinscans.anxious-anime.com, not on the anime.

Chapter 1  


* * *

* * *

I was a wanderer, for a time.

In some ways, it was the best part of my life: there was a tremendous freedom in just wandering around, helping those I came across. I could have lived a life of luxury for my part in the war, taking a job in the new government. But I felt being awarded a high office for murder would dishonor those I had killed. I think my comrades did not understand my reasons, but they allowed me to go, allowed the memory of Hitokiri Battosai to slowly fade into legend.

In some ways, however, my wondering years were the worst of my life. I was dirt poor -- although I sometimes considered this to be an advantage --, and had only my clothing and my sword as possessions. I was overcome with guilt and remorse; moral dilemmas presented themselves to me daily. I had vowed not to kill, but eventually found that to be impractical. My reverse-edged sword could kill: a blunt object struck with sufficient force against a man will kill him as easily as letting his blood water the grass.

I suffered, for a time, battling back and forth with myself about whether killing in defense of myself and others was justified. I feared that if I killed too often, I would develop a taste for blood. I feared that I would become a serial murderer, slaying anyone who looked at me the wrong way. But I discovered that taking a life in defense of another was not a thing to be afraid of. My master, Hiko Sejiro, did just that to save me when I was a boy, and I did not consider him a monster. I no longer think myself a monster, either.

For the most part, my travels were boring. I could tell you a few tales of various villages I saved, or even specific people. I could tell you the techniques I developed to avoid killing; though I no longer feared taking a life, I preferred not to do so whenever possible. If you are particularly morbid, I could even recount to you the exact number of men I had killed since becoming a rurouni, and the manner in which they died.

Perhaps one day I will write all of that down, but to me, most of that time is unimportant. I've lived three lives since the day I left my master: the Hitokiri, the Wanderer, and the Protector. The first will likely never be recorded, for it was the darkest time in my life, and one I am not proud of. The second, as I said, may be written later. But this, this is the tale of how I left my second life and began my third.

My story begins at midnight in the streets of Tokyo, in the eleventh year of the Meiji Era.

* * *

"Hitokiri Battosai!" A voice cried out in the night. I thought it strange that someone would recognize me now, ten years after my fame, in the middle of the night.

I turned to look at the person who called to me. It was a young woman, perhaps 20 at the most. Her black hair was tied back, and she seemed to me to be rather attractive. I was faintly surprised to see her wearing a standard swordsman's outfit, though it was a bit too dark for me to properly make out the colors. She waved a bokken at me in a threatening manner.

"I've finally found you," she said. It wasn't the first time I'd heard such a statement spoken with anger, and it wouldn't be the last, but it did surprise me to hear it from a woman. There aren't too many women with skill in the art of the sword.

"Now I can put an end to these murders in the streets. Prepare yourself!"

"Oro?" I said, confused. "Oro" is a bit of a catch all word, I admit. It doesn't mean anything, really, but it's a non-threatening way of feigning surprise. At the time, I _was_ slightly surprised. Killings in the streets? I hadn't killed anyone in a long time. 

"Don't play innocent with me!" she shouted. "Only an assassin would walk around with a sword at night despite the interdiction!"

Clearly, she was making a guess. In this case, it was an accurate one, though I was not the one she was searching for. She charged at me with an overhead strike, and slashed with fair competence. I simply jumped back to avoid her.

I saw stars: cracking your head against the overhanging roof of a building will do that to you. I guess I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.

"Is this really Hitokiri Battosai?" I heard the woman mumble. "What's this? A wanderer?"

I groaned, rubbing the back of my head. God, that was clumsy of me. I put on a dumb smile and replied. "This one doesn't know what you are talking about. This one has just arrived in town today, a wanderer. An expert swordsman, yes, but merely one who's journey is without end."

Yes, I really _did_ talk like that. As a rurouni, humility was a most becoming quality. It kept me out of a lot of useless fights.

The young woman looked at me indecisively for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Then why are you wearing a sword?" she shouted at me. "Not even experts are allowed to have real swords!"

I must give her credit, she had spirit. Still does, to this day. It was a bit misplaced in this incident, but she means well, usually.

To forestall further argument, I offered her the hilt of my sword. She carefully pulled it out, and her eyes widened in amazement. "What the... A reversed blade? Could this sword actually kill anyone?"

I had to smile at her naivety. Much like my own, not too long before. "Ah. It can kill, yes. But it rarely has."

She looked at me, eye-brow raised questioningly. I'm not entirely sure how she learned that trick. Try as I might, I can't control my eye-brows independently. "But why would a swordsman carry a weapon like this?"

"Ah. That is a long story." And it is, but now's not the time to tell it.

A shrill whistle echoed through the dark streets.

"A police whistle!" The young woman shouted. "I have you now!" 

She then tossed my sword up in the air and ran off! A terribly rude thing to do, that. Especially since I'd just polished it that very day! Diving, I managed to get a hand on the hilt and catch it before it hit the ground. Thank god for quick reflexes. Or perhaps thank Shishou.

I sheathed my sword, and slipped it back through my obi. "There is something going on here that this one is not aware of."

I decided it might be a good idea to follow her.

* * *

As I said, the girl had spirit. But she was young and foolish at the time.

She leapt at the giant killer, who was dressed in black with a concealing hood (rather unoriginal, if you ask me), and executed a perfect mid-air strike. There was one problem with it, however. She was holding a polished stick, and he was holding steel.

She slid to a stop behind him, pivoting on her knees to face him. There was a trickle of blood on her arm. The murderer stuck at her, and she jumped back, but that put her against a wall. The next strike would've been the end of her. It was time to make my entrance.

I should say something here, before I continue. It may seem, throughout the course of this tale, that I am always showing up at the last minute. That's true, but there's a reason for it. Musashi wrote in the Book of Five Rings, that there is a rhythm to everything. To overcome an opponent, you must have good rhythm, and you must disrupt your opponent's rhythm. I always time my entrances to the point where they will be most disruptive. In the end, it usually means less work.

I jumped off the roof I'd been hiding on and used my speed to put myself between the woman and the murderer. Pulling out my sakabatou, I blocked his strike.

"Who are you?" The giant rumbled.

"This unworthy one? Just a wanderer. But this one requests that you cease your actions before you get hurt." I don't know why I bothered to be polite. Habit, I suppose. But I'd drawn my sword, committing myself to action.

"What?" The man laughed, a surprisingly high-pitched sound for one so large. "A little runt like you, hurt me? Your sword doesn't even cut on the right side!" He pulled away his sword.

I sensed the young woman slide away to my left. Even though she had almost been killed, she was still thinking. The move gave me more room to maneuver. I shifted my feet, and adopted the first standing position of the Hiten Mitsurugi, facing him directly. Pulling the scabbard free of my belt, I sheathed my sword.

"Ah. You are a fool. This unworthy one sees little skill in your attacks. Your size and great physical strength are your only ally. If you wish to fight a worthy opponent, this one will oblige."

"Very well, then, little man. Know that you will die at the hands of the Hitokiri Battosai." He raised his sword to the _jodan_ position, above his head. Clearly, this man was an idiot. My posture was screaming a form of _iaijutsu_ or _battojutsu_, and he was going to try an overhead strike.

"If you are truly Battosai, then let us see your Battojutsu. Isn't that what you were know for during the war?" I drop to a half-crouch, turning my right side toward him very slightly.

"Pfft. If that is how you wish to die, so be it." The fool flicked the blood off his blade and sheathed his sword. He took a half-step back and crouched slightly as well.

The me-impersonator made the first move, hoping to give himself the advantage in initiative. Moving faster than an eye such as his could see, I stepped back and avoided the strike effortlessly.

"Pathetic," I taunted, "You aren't Battosai."

"I can see you're not like these weaklings," the giant responded. "Enough. You will die now."

He came at me again, with another overhead strike. I drew my sword, bobbing downward in the middle of the action to accelerate the blade. I aimed my strike not at him, but at his weapon. This is a favorite tactic of mine.

His sword broke cleanly, but I wasn't finished. Rotating my body threw the strike, I brought the iron sheath around to strike at his hand, breaking his thumb. He dropped his former katana.

Before he had a chance to scream, I brought the sheath back around, striking him across the temple. He dropped to the ground, unconscious. I put away my sword, slipping it between the second and third layers of my obi.

"This unworthy one has no attachment to the name Battosai," I said, more to the woman I had just rescued than the man I had just knocked out. "But I cannot allow men such as you to have it."

"Who are you?" the girl asked me after a few moments. "Are you really the Hitokiri Battosai?"

"I was. But now this one goes by the name of Himura Kenshin." I turned to regard her. "And you are?"

"Kamiya Kaoru," she said hesitantly. "Thank you for saving me, Himura-san." She bowed.

Strangely, that's one of the few times she ever called me by my family name. Occasionally it was "Kenshin-san", but mostly it was simply "Kenshin". I never asked why, since it didn't bother me in the slightest. I also had a bit of a self-esteem problem at the time, and didn't think myself worthy of any type of respect.

"Ah. Pleased to meet you, Kamiya-dono." And that was the first and only time I ever called her that.

A police whistle blew, signalling the imminent arrival of the authorities. I was planning on staying to wait for them, but Kaoru forced me to reconsider.

"We should leave," she told me.

"Ah?"

"If they find you here, they'll arrest you for possessing a sword. If it's the armed police, they might even attack you."

"Do you mean the authorities are corrupt?" I asked.

She nodded. "Come this way. You can stay at my place for the rest of the night. It's the least I can do after you saved me."

"Wait." I picked her up and jumped onto a nearby roof.

"What are you doing?" she whispered angrily.

"Making sure that the suspect is arrested."

We watched for a few minutes as the police arrived. There was only one conclusion to be drawn from the scene, and the authorities made it. They arrested the would-be Battosai and dragged him off.

I carried Kaoru back down to the ground, and took her up on her offer.

* * *

I recall my shock the first time I saw her dojo. I had assumed that her family owned the dojo, and that her father, humoring her, perhaps, had taught her kendo. It didn't surprise me overmuch to see her name listed as the assistant master. What did surprise me was that her name was the only one listed at all.

"Oro?" I exclaimed. "That's it?"

Kaoru scowled as she had her injury bound by an old man. "Yes. It was only a small school to begin with. I only had about ten students." She sighed. "But because of the murders, the students all left within two months. Each student fled, one by one, fearing the name of Battosai."

"The people in town won't come near this dojo."

"Why is that?" I asked, confused.

"... What?"

"Kaoru-dono, I don't understand. It is true that the name of Hitokiri Battosai strikes fear even in these peaceful times, but why did the students flee?"

"Oh. The murderer was killing in the name of my school." She looked angry. "That's why I was out there. I had to put a stop to it."

"Ah. But this one thinks that you made a mistake. That murderer was much stronger than you."

I could see outrage register on her face. In truth, she had some right to feel angry: she was quite skilled, quite possibly more so than the impersonator. "You did not account for his steel and his physical strength. Though many of his strikes were clumsy, he had enough power behind them to push through your defenses. And even if your strength was sufficient, that of your weapon was not. That is why you were injured."

She seemed slightly miffed at that. "You're probably right, Kenshin."

"This unworthy one is not trying to be insulting. I merely suggest that you spend more time evaluating your opponent before attacking." I smiled. "In any case, your dojo seems secure, since the fake Battosai is arrested."

I caught a momentary flash of hostility from the old man. It's something that all great swordsmen develop: an ability to read an opponent before they move. For just a moment, the old man had been contemplating an act of violence. I narrowed my eyes and scowled at him.

"Who is this man?"

Kaoru seemed startled by the abruptness of my question. "Kiheh. He's a housekeeper who's been staying here."

"Ah." I continued to stare at the old man. "In any case, with the fake Battosai defeated and in jail, you should be able to rebuilt your school." Kiheh flinched ever so slightly.

"I hope so."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, this unworthy one will retire for the night."

"Good night then, Kenshin."

"Good night, Kaoru-dono, Kiheh-san."

* * *

Although I claimed I was going to bed, in truth I slept very little that night. I entertained certain suspicions about Kiheh. He seemed to me to be very upset about the defeat of the fake Battosai. He would bear watching.

* * *

* * *

Author's notes:

If you are wondering who Kiheh is, read the manga. I provided a link at the top of the story. Other changes in the story, such as different order of events and odd characterizations, are also based on the manga. There's enough similarity between the anime and manga for you to enjoy this story regardless, but you may benifit some from reading the original.

This story is a simple divergence. It asks the question, "What if Kenshin had never decided not to kill?" I haven't come across many fanfics that start at the beginning of the series, and this particular idea intrigued me, so I started writing. Hopefully someone else finds it interesting as well.

Comments and criticisms welcome, flames ignored. Thanks for reading!


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